Happystancing

Impostor, dead it like a preaching Pastor.

The choir dey listen to uttering the Light singing.

Seduction of the Dark illusion, sits in its zone happystancing.

Hairline cracks, tremors to quakes. Dots appear, a tsunami wave, wiping the clean slate.

The battling tug of war is a chore, life is no bore.

Springs in thy stepping galore, for self and encore. Impostor no more.